Two Stars On the Same Stage
by Pelahnar
Summary: After the Duke leaves, the Moulin Rouge falls into debt and Harold has to fire actors left and right. After the Opera Populaire is burned to the ground, everyone is jobless. Full summary inside.
1. Business Troubles

**Disclaimer: I own neither the Moulin Rouge nor The Phantom of the Opera. Never have. Never will.**

**Summary: After the Duke leaves, the Moulin Rouge falls into debt and Harold is forced to fire actors left and right. After the Opera Populaire is destroyed, everyone who worked there finds themselves jobless. The two businesses must work together to save everyone from the streets. But Christine doesn't like Satine...and Satine doesn't like Christine. Two stars can't share the same stage - can they?**

**A/N: Basically, I wanted to post something and this was the only thing halfway ready. Enjoy!**

The curtain closed for the final time, and Harold could feel the excitement and triumph in the air. Someone went outside and came back declaring that they couldn't find the Duke anywhere – he was gone, and as far as anyone knew, he was gone for good.

Even as the rest of the Moulin Rouge cheered, Harold couldn't help feeling a shiver of doubt. Where would their money come from now? Ticket sales for Spectacular Spectacular were through the roof, but Harold was now a businessman as much as an entertainer. He knew that even if the show continued to sell out every performance, that money alone would not be enough to keep a full theatre on its feet.

They could raise prices, of course. They could ask for donations, they could search for a new investor...Harold went through the list of possible plans of action quickly. It was a very short list, and he didn't like how much of it depended on the generosity of others. Especially now that Satine had chosen to give up her job as a courtesan – that had always been something he counted on.

Harold now glanced at Satine. She and Christian were together, of course – able to publicly show their love for the first time. He could not, however hard he tried, bring himself to wish she hadn't fallen for him. She was so happy – happier than he'd ever seen her. Happier than she'd ever been, probably.

He sighed and looked at the other Diamond Dogs. One of them could take Satine's place as star courtesan, but it didn't seem right to fill that position while Satine 'the Sparkling Diamond' was still working at the Moulin Rouge, courtesan or not. Maybe when she left…

_No! She can't leave – that really _would_ be the end of the Moulin Rouge!_

But without a star courtesan, the Moulin Rouge might be over anyway. Harold appraised Nini Legs-in-the-Air – the girl, if any, who would replace Satine – and decided he'd have to take that chance. Nini was a wonderful dancer and an even better prostitute, but she had a nasty temper. Not to mention that awful laugh…he could hear it now, slurred by the large amount of Absinthe she was consuming, but still hard on the ears.

No, she could remain Nini Legs-in-the-Air, and nothing more.

"Harold, why are you looking so serious?" Harold turned around to find Satine grinning at him. "Aren't you glad the Duke's gone?" she asked.

"Yes, but –"

Satine didn't let him finish. "I am. Horrid man."

"Yes, but –"

"Christian asked me to marry him." Her smiled grew, if that was possible. "And I said yes. We're engaged! Isn't it wonderful!" Laughing, she skipped – yes, _skipped_ – over to tell Nini and her friends. They didn't seem nearly so happy about it, but this didn't dampen her spirits. Harold got the idea that nothing was going to dampen her spirits for a long time.

Well, at least _something_ was going the way it should. Harold smiled, and joined what was quickly becoming an engagement party.

* * *

Firmin watched the Opera Populaire burn and felt a cold horror well up in him. "We're ruined, Andres. Ruined!" he said, still staring at the flames hopelessly.

"So you've said." Andres replied, not a little impatiently. "I ask again – where's Miss Daae? And the Viscomte, for that matter? I haven't seen him since the chandelier fell."

"While we're talking of missing persons." Madame Giry said, joining their conversation smoothly. "I'd like to add my daughter to the list. And a large group of others, mostly stagehands, I think."

"Well, where are they all then?" asked Firmin angrily. "They can't all be trapped in the building – it's not burning that fast."

"They are below the opera house, trying to find the Opera Ghost. But I don't think – here they are now!"

Sure enough, Raoul and Christine were emerging from the opera house. They were covered in soot and seemed shaken up, but on the whole, looked unharmed. Raoul was soaking wet – how had that happened?

M. Giry ran up and hugged first Christine, then Raoul. The three of them rejoined Firmin and Andres across the square from the Opera Populaire. Christine, Firmin noticed, had tears streaming down her cheeks – but that was no surprise. This opera house had, after all, been the only home she'd known since her father died.

They watched the building burn in silence for a few more minutes. M. Giry was visibly getting more agitated by the second. No one had come out since Christine and Raoul.

Finally, another group appeared, led by Meg Giry herself. She, along with several of the others, was coughing hard and the shirt that had once been white was now torn and gray.

M. Giry again ran up to embrace her daughter and this time Firmin and Andres followed her, wanting to make sure the stagehands were all accounted for.

"Are you all right?" Firmin heard M. Giry ask Meg frantically.

"Y-yes." Meg coughed. "I'm fine. He-he's gone."

Firmin glanced back at them and saw Meg holding out a piece of white cloth to her mother – the Phantom's mask, he realized. Then they _had_ been down to where the Phantom of the Opera lived. And had, apparently, scared him off. Or killed him – either way was fine by him as long as he never had to deal with the man again.

"Is this everyone?" he asked the group of stagehands. "Good." he said without really listening to their murmurs of assent.

"You know who else isn't here?" Andres asked him suddenly. "Carlotta. Or Piangi, for that matter."

"They're dead." M. Giry interrupted. "I saw them – Piangi had a noose around his neck and Carlotta stayed with him."

"A noose? The Phantom!" Firmin said angrily. "We must –"

"There is nothing you can do. The Opera Ghost is gone. You won't be able to find him."

Firmin realized she was right, and nodded. "As long as he _stays_ gone, I don't care anymore."

"But – the opera house!" Andres cried. "Where are they going to perform now?" he stared around at the others, but everyone else only mirrored his hopeless expression.

"I don't know." Murmured M. Giry after a few seconds. "I really don't know."

**A/N: So, I'm not sure I like how this turned out. I rewrote it about a million times (ok, ok, I rewrote it twice), and it did help a little. But not much. Subsequent chapters will be told from Christine or Satine's point of view, so they will be better - I hope. **

**Please review!**


	2. I Don't Like Her

**Disclaimer: I own neither Phantom of the Opera nor Moulin Rouge...**

Christine studied the red windmill in front of her, and had to repress a shudder. The Moulin Rouge, Firmin told her, was a former bordello that had been transformed into a theatre by Harold Zidler – who was, apparently, an old friend of his and Andres'.

She didn't have a problem with what the place had been. Or even what it probably still was, to some extent. Many of the dancers at the Opera Populaire had disreputable pasts, or at least acted as though they did. Christine had long been used to it – that was how things worked in show business.

So what was it that she found so repulsive – the bright lights? The glaring colors? It was the contrast, she decided, between the gilded, shining halls of the Opera Populaire, and this garish, red glow. It reminded her of Erik, and his night music. Maybe it would be better in the daytime. Maybe then the red wouldn't permeate everything so sickeningly. Maybe.

"So, why was Monsieur Zidler so willing to let us perform here?" Christine murmured to Raoul.

"I think Firmin said he was in some kind of financial trouble. He's been having to fire people and now only the one's he can't survive without are still here – and there's not nearly enough of them. Without us, those who still _are_ here will be on the streets…"

A burst of raucous laughter behind them interrupted Raoul's explanation. They turned to see a young black-haired woman, nearly bent double with her mirth. "Oh, yes!" she cried. "I must extend my gracious welcome to the saviours of the Moulin Rouge!" She gave a very theatrical bow, ruined by a fresh wave of laughter.

Raoul exchanged a slightly horrified glance with Christine and then said, "Good evening, mademoiselle. Who are you, exactly?"

"I?" her eyes widened in mock astonishment. "Monsieur le Saviour is addressing _moi_? _I_ am a Moulin Rouge singer, dancer, and Diamond Dog extraordinaire!" Another bow and more laughs. Then she winked mischievously, "You know – one of those few remaining _needed_ ones!"

"And believe you me, if Harold _didn't_ need her, she wouldn't still be here."

The speaker was a beautiful redhead who was glaring rather openly at the laughing woman. "Aww, that's just not nice, Satan!" Gasped the receiver of the glare.

"A…Diamond Dog? What's a Diamond Dog?" Christine asked, hesitantly.

They both looked at her, eyebrows raised. After a few moments, the redhead – _what_ was her name? Satan? – answered. "The same thing as a courtesan."

"Courtesan?" The black-haired woman snorted. "Please, sister, you're the only _real_ courtesan here. The rest of us are common prostitutes!"

The redhead sighed heavily. "Whatever you say." She muttered, then turned to Christine and Raoul. "I'm Satine – and that's Nini Legs-in-the-Air. Don't take anything she says too personally; she's like that all the time. I mostly try to ignore her."

The woman named 'Nini Legs-in-the-Air' laughed once more and disappeared into the windmill itself. Satine gave them a rather forced smile. "And you are?"

They introduced themselves quickly and Christine was surprised to see a spark of recognition in Satine's eyes when she said her name. "Christine Daae?" she asked as they shook hands. "I've heard of you – an up and coming opera singer. Soprano, I believe?" Christine nodded. "Yes. I hear you're good."

Christine gave a noncommittal shrug, but Raoul said, "She's amazing. Truly, she has the voice of an angel."

"Darling, don't say that." Christine murmured. "Anything but that." Erik had called her an angel – she was still trying to forget about it.

Satine was watching them closely, eyebrows lowered. "Hmm. Well, I'm sure you'll be a valuable addition to the Moulin Rouge." Her voice was strangely tight and it did seem as though she quite meant what she was saying. "If you'll excuse me…I have…I have to go." She added slowly. "Good day."

As Satine left, Raoul said, "Well that was – interesting."

"I don't like her." Christine said, staring in the direction the redhead had gone. "I don't like her at all."

* * *

Satine hurried away from the couple from the Opera Populaire, without quite knowing where she was headed. She was not all that surprised, however, that her feet took her to the stage where Christian was sitting, reading some papers.

"Hey." She said, sitting next to him.

"Hi." He looked up, but his smile was quickly replaced by a worried expression. "Satine, what's wrong?"

Satine gave him a small smile – it was all she could manage without trying to force it. How had she ever been able to lie to him so convincingly? He knew her so well. "Satine?"

"I – met some of the people from the Opera Populaire." She began casually.

Christian nodded. "They've been arriving all day. I've seen some – haven't talked to anyone though."

"Well, I talked to these. Vicomte Raoul de Changy and Christine Daae. They arrived in a gold gilt carriage, were wearing some of the most expensive clothing I've ever seen, and their manners were impeccable. Miss Daae didn't know what a Diamond Dog was – I can understand that she'd never heard the term before, but she couldn't even guess what it meant!" she sighed heavily. "I don't like her. I don't like her all at."

"I don't understand –" Christian began.

Before he could continue, however, the double doors burst open and Harold walked through them, followed closely by the Vicomte and Miss Daae. He appeared to be giving them a tour. "This is the auditorium!" he cried, obviously trying to sound impressive.

Even from across the room, Satine could tell the couple was not impressed, however much they tried to seem it. "And she _can't_ be a very good actress…" Satine muttered to Christian. He, too, was watching their obvious indifference.

"Some actresses do differentiate between on-stage and off-stage." He whispered back, ignoring her good-natured glare. "And besides, I've heard the Opera Populaire has golden statues and red velvet chairs. You have to admit, this –" he gestured to the rather drab room around them – "would be a let-down."

"Had," Satine corrected absently. "The Opera Populaire burned down, remember?" She studied Christine as she, Raoul and Harold made their way down the aisle. She didn't seem anymore interested in the things Harold was saying than she had been be the auditorium. At least, she wasn't interested until they reached the stage, where Harold decided it was necessary to introduce Christian and Satine.

"And _this_ is Satine, our Sparkling Diamond and Christian, the writer!" he cried. Satine did not correct him – technically, she had quite her job as Sparkling Diamond when she became engaged to Christian, but now didn't seem the time to mention this. 'The Sparkling Diamond' _did_ sound like an important title, even if it wasn't.

Satine smiled, hoping it looked more real than Christine's interest, and said. "We've met. Hello again, Miss Daae, Vicomte."

"Sparkling Diamond?" Finally, something had sparked Christine's interest. "What does that mean?"

"It means she is the star of the Moulin Rouge!" Harold cried. "Our most beautiful, most talented actress! None here can compare to her in any way!"

Satine nearly laughed; it was very over-the-top, but then, so were most of the things that Harold said and did. Instead, she blushed slightly and smiled again. "Welcome to the Moulin Rouge, Miss Daae." She said quietly.

"Now, if you would like to continue backstage…" Harold seemed determined to finish his tour.

Satine let her fake smile slip and turned back to Christian. She'd hoped he would see what she had been trying to describe before, but he only looked confused. "Do you know who Christine Daae is?" she asked suddenly. Christian shook his head. "She's lived at the Opera Populaire since she was a child. She grew up learning how to sing and dance and act. And now…she's one of the fastest rising sopranos in the country." She explained quickly. "And…"

"And you're worried she wants to replace you." Christian finished, suddenly comprehending. Satine swallowed and nodded. This fear seemed so much more real now that it had been voiced. "Don't worry, dearest…" he murmured, leaning closer. "All the main roles I write are for altos."

This time, Satine's smile was both wide and genuine. "Thanks." She laughed.

**A/N: So, did you like it? Please review!**


End file.
